


A Girl Is Not A Flower Girl

by blueteak



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Female Protagonist, Ficlet, Gen, Minor Violence, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While serving a cup bearer for Lord Tywin, Arya learns of a plot and attempts to prevent the Red Wedding. Spoilers for Storm of Swords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl Is Not A Flower Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the kink meme prompt: Arya saves Robb and her mother from the Red Wedding.
> 
> TV characterization of Tywin at play, and playing fast and loose with the timeline.

Robb was going to lose this war for love of a woman. Arya did not think that even Sansa would appreciate the songs that would be written about their brother if that came to pass. 

Arya heard the quick, decisive steps of Tywin Lannister and set about collecting cups, hoping he would not realize that taking them away empty was not part of her duties and that she had been far more interested in reading the correspondence under them--correspondence detailing plans for an attack on the Starks at her uncle's wedding--than in cleaning them. Luckily, Lannister let her escape with not much more than a raised eyebrow. Even that was dangerous on him, but it gave her time to get to Jaqen. 

Jaqen had resisted her plan, had been full of “a man does not do favors,” until Arya had said his name was the next name on her list. He had then been convinced to ride ahead to the Twins with Gendry and Hot Pie, who would infiltrate the kitchens and smithy, helping to pick off any Frey sellswords who had already arrived. 

Arya herself would ride with Lord Tywin, who had detained her when her arms were full, bowed, and formally asked her to accompany him to a wedding. The smile that had been threatening at the corners of his mouth broke out when Arya gave an equally formal curtsey and said she would be delighted to accompany him. 

The smile had not left his face even after she had turned after taking her leave, innocently asking which houses were being joined in marriage. She wondered whether he would dare admit to its being a Tully-Frey match at which Lannisters would theoretically be welcome only as decorative heads on spikes. Tywin, with a small smile, had replied “Their sigils are a silver trout and two conjoined towers. My lady.” 

Tywin kept her close after that, but Arya did not mind. Her work was done until they arrived at the Twins. Jaqen had presumably already replaced Frey sellswords with men loyal to them, all without alerting the Freys. The trap would be well and truly set for the Lannisters and Freys.

By the time they arrived at the Twins under the cover of false banners, Arya found herself hoping that Robb would not kill Tywin Lannister even though he had been plotting to have him killed. While he had undoubtedly committed evil deeds, she knew they were political, that the man did not glory in bloodshed. He would never have killed her father as Joffrey had. And….and he had made sure that she had been well fed and warm along the journey, even going as far as to provide her with the Casterly Rock versions of stories she had heard from Old Nan. 

As soon as she could, she sprinted for the kitchens, ostensibly in order to find wine for the Lannisters. She wanted to find Hot Pie and learn where her brother and mother were. She had suspected that they might be hidden away somewhere to inform her of how the plan was progressing, to tell her news of Sansa and Bran and Rickon. 

Jaqen intercepted her along the way. “A girl seeks her mother and brother?”

Arya nodded, eyes darting around the castle, heart filling with pride and fear for her family at the sight of the Stark banners that had once been her father’s and were now her brother’s. 

“A girl’s mother and brother do not yet know of the plan. Else they would not have come,” Jaqen said. “When ‘The Rains of Castamere’ begins to play, a girl must go to her brother and inform him that the sellswords serve her and the Freys.”

“And the Lannisters?” Arya asked.

“Lord Tywin and a few other men will also be in disguise within the hall. They do not trust Lord Frey.”

Arya nodded once more and turned in the direction of the kitchens, only to be stopped by Jaqen’s hand on her arm. “A girl must be careful. A man still does not know who all of the enemies are.”

When Arya returned with the wine after a satisfactory summit with Hot Pie, she found Tywin in the subdued colors of a lesser lord. 

“If my lord wishes to be in disguise, he could help me bear cups,” she could not help but quip, her easy familiarity with him during the journey to the Twins returning despite the situation unfolding. 

Tywin did not smile, but pointed a finger at her in a way that reminded her of her father. All lords must learn how to intimidate their offspring thus. “I am here to discover whether an alliance can be made. Robb Stark refuses to negotiate his terms, but might be persuaded to do so in person. It will be safe here once we have eaten bread and salt. Lannisters will be protected by guest right as well as Starks.”

Arya did her best to school her face. Was it possible that Tywin spoke the truth? He was dissatisfied with his grandson’s reign, she knew. And he did not trust Lord Frey. Then again, he might try to trap her, find out who she told about this possible alliance. And yet she had to say something. Silence might very well damn her.

“As long as the kingdom will be safe,” she replied. 

“Indeed,” Tywin said, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “And girl. You must remain by my side at all times. Though we should be protected, there is no harm in remaining cautious.”

Even at the feast, she could not tell whether Tywin suspected who she was. His orders made it almost impossible for her to catch glimpses of her mother and brother, but that might not mean he meant to keep her from them. 

From what she could see, Robb’s ability to pretend to be entertained at boring feasts had not improved by his new status. And her mother….her mother looked as though she had aged ten years. 

Arya was staring, wanting to comfort her mother when Tywin caught her attention. 

“What are you thinking, girl?” he asked. 

“Of how sad that lady looks,” Arya answered, surprising herself with her honesty. Tywin looked away. 

And then she heard the first strains of “The Rains of Castamere” and vaulted, using all the tricks her Braavosi instructor had taught her, over to Robb as quickly as she could. 

Blades were already out, wine spilled, laughter shocked into silence when she reached a point just behind Robb, who was surveying the scene in confusion, sword at the ready. Somewhere, Walder Frey was yelling “treachery!” Good. The sellswords had turned to capture the Freys and the disguised Lannisters. 

She was just debating the wisdom of tackling an armed Robb from behind in greeting when she saw Roose Bolton heading toward her brother, sword outstretched in a way suggesting that he was not about to renew his vows of fealty. 

“Robb!” she screamed, and leapt in front of him.

And then she was shivering in her brother’s arms, the blood spilling out of her providing her with a warm blanket that did nothing to increase her temperature.

She groggily turned her head in the direction of Tywin Lannister, wanting to see what he would make of this revelation, whether he would look angry at having been deceived or proud of her for having managed the deception. He only looked…concerned. 

The last thing Arya saw was her mother slitting Roose Bolton’s throat. 

 

She dreamt of Jaqen, face changing from old to young, male to female, attempting to give her the gift, over and over again. She tried to rise, to struggle toward it, but a line of fire across her chest kept her bound where she was. 

She heard howling, Nymeria and Grey Wolf, and woke up with a sudden hope. Cool hands—her mother’s—held her down. Arya was glad to see that there was still some evidence of Roose Bolton’s blood on them. That part at least had not been a dream. 

Robb, who had been holding council over on the other side of the room, came and knelt by the bed, kissing her hand. 

“Promise me you won’t act like a silly fool from Sansa’s songs any more, Robb,” she managed to whisper. 

Robb smiled, though his eyes were haunted. “I’ll try not to. Any other commands, little sister?”

“I want to see Tywin Lannister. And Nymeria. I know she’s here. And don’t even think of marrying me against my will.”

This time when Robb smiled it reached his eyes. “You may see Tywin Lannister with Nymeria as a guard. And he has already expressed to me that it would be folly to marry you against your will.”

Her mother gave Robb a sharp look at that, then sighed and shooed the men out, telling them that they could now hold their councils away from the sick room. 

Weeks later, Arya visited Tywin in his cell, bearing a cup of wine.


End file.
